


the lines we cross (curses and clarity)

by upstead_sails



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Chicago PD - Freeform, F/M, One Chicago - Freeform, Upstead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 04:08:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upstead_sails/pseuds/upstead_sails
Summary: A blurb of how I think Chicago PD 7x18 "Lines" should have ended, after Hailey and Voight's intense conversation.(Beginning lines, in quotations, are the originals from 7x18, I do not own the rights to these. Brief mention of a part from 6x6)Content/Trigger Warnings: Yelling, aggression, inferred child abuse.
Relationships: Hailey Upton and Jay Halstead
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	the lines we cross (curses and clarity)

___

"You wanted to see me?" Hailey crosses the entrance of Voight's office, not the only line she's crossed that day.

"Shut the door. Sit down." Her boss's husk voice greets her, but it isn't as much of a greeting as it is a warning of what's about to come. She plants herself on the bench inside, and in a rushed attempt to save herself from the wrath of Hank Voight, she explains the reasoning behind her situation, his interrupting remarks boiling her blood. 

"Hailey," he continues, "I understand why you did it, I'm not stupid. Do you understand you crossed a line? Do you?" It's a rhetorical question, they both know she crossed a line, maybe more than one. To her, though, it was worth it to seek justice. But that might not last long.

"Hailey, the problem with crossing lines- you cross enough of 'em, you forget where they are. You don't see 'em anymore." His hands clasp against his desk, and he makes a good point, but she just sternly gazes at him.

"I'm seeing just fine, Sarge." She settles for a confident undertone of passive aggression.

"Yeah, okay. Well, take a look at this. New York's FBI Task Force is lookin' for a loan-out officer. I just signed you up." His blunt interjection throws her for a loop, and she shifts herself forward to collide with the thick air in the small room.

"What?...." She trails off, not quite registering what she just heard. _New York? The FBI?_

"It's an assignment for a few weeks. Believe me, they do things different there. The lines, they are _real_ clear." He clarifies, although _clarity_ is a concept that goes in one ear and out the other in this moment.

"I did the same thing you would have done-" She's screaming internally at this point, but she speaks hurriedly, her voice cracking at the last few syllables.

Standing, Voight swipes his arm across his desk, pushing off files and papers. "I don't _want_ you to be me! That's _my_ job. Your job, is to be _you_." He yells at an almost ear splitting decibel- a manner she hadn't yet seen in this regard. Not geared toward her at least. "Hailey, I'm startin' to wonder if you can do it." That's what hits her the hardest, though. She isn't one to crumble over the words of an angry man- she's been there before- but this weighs heavier on her than most other words as she attempts to suppress her whirling mind.

"Alright," He slows down, quieting himself as he sinks back in his desk chair. "Platt's got the details, flight leaves tomorrow. Have a safe trip." He folds his hands again, and his parting thought digs through her like a dagger. _Tomorrow?_

Without another word, she slowly stands, eyes still fixed on her boss, and turns to open the door, closing it to leave Voight behind to sit in his own aftermath.

___

Hailey feels less like a detective and more like her ten year old self, images filling her brain's periphery of her father reaming her out, hovering above her with a belt, or a cord, or anything he could get his hands on. Her mind is chocked full of curses, and completely void of clarity. 

She rounds the corner to the locker room, her fist meeting the first locker she comes across. It's a desperate externalization of her anger, and she sinks against the wall behind her as suppressed emotions overcome her. Hailey Anne Upton is far from fragile, but this, tonight, breaks her. In this moment, sobs clouding her vision and filling her throat, _she's_ beginning to wonder if she can do it. Her hands cup her own head, and she's never felt smaller. She's never felt so alone, either, but maybe that's what she needs. 

_Maybe_.

After what feels like hours (in reality, several minutes), she catches her breath. Her stomach, however, still churns with knots, and her head is throbbing a mile a minute. She finds the strength to stand and paces the quiet locker room. 

She glances around the space, attempting to process that she'll be in a hotel room in New York this time tomorrow. Grabbing her phone out of her back jean pocket, she realizes it's well past 10pm now. She shoves it back in, opening her locker to gather some work items before heading home to pack. A moment later, tan duffel bag slings over her shoulder, and as she closes and secures her now-empty locker, she hears footsteps in the hallway.

"Look, I needed a minute, okay," she barks, "I'm leaving, I'm outta your hair now." But her vision doesn't focus on a harrowing silhouette of Voight. Nor are her words met with a husk voice. It's Jay, and he just stands there, leaning against the doorpost.

A weight of embarrassment adds to her tense shoulders, and she knows she looks like a wreck. She slowly lowers her duffle bag onto the bench beside her before lowering herself onto the end of it. Her fingers brush against her cheek as she looks up at him, and she can feel her bottom lip starting to quiver again. Jay crosses to the other side of the lockers, and the sound of his boots hitting the tile echoes through the room. He plants himself on the end of another bench in front of Hailey.

"How much did you hear...?" She speaks softly, her voice growing hoarse from her unraveling emotions earlier. 

He leans forward, clasping his hands between his parted legs. "Just about all of it," he says gently, his sigh joining with hers. "I was headed home, Platt about chased me down to file paperwork, guess she failed to mention I'd walk in on a screaming match. Hailey, what the hell happened?" 

She palms her forehead, suppressing another spiral. "Still tryin' to answer that myself. All I know is, I'm leavin' tomorrow and I don't think a steel wall could prevent me from ending up in New York for a few weeks." Still trying to recoup from hearing the conversation as well, Jay just nods. She watches him for a moment, his features searching hers, and it hits her altogether that a new city, a new partner, a new unit, a new way of fighting crime is approaching all too quickly. Even if temporary, she can't fathom functioning without Jay, without 21. Her teeth graze her lower lip in an attempt to hide her realization, but her partner knows her like the back of his own hand. And honestly, she knows better than to even hide it.

"Hailey," his words fall in the silence, a hand moving to rest on her knee. "You gotta know, everything Voight says and does is not _just_ to keep us in line. It's to keep us, _us_." Her glossed-over eyes meet his, and his soft expression and furrowed eyebrows are what do it for her. She nods warily, letting her guard down as her lip quivers unhidden this time. 

His thumb softly rubs over the jeans covering her knee. "Thing is, and Voight knows better than anyone, the lines we cross can rob us of ourselves. Last thing he wants is for any of us to wind up where he's stood a million times. Sometimes it takes a harsh tone, sometimes it takes a grandiose effort like this." 

He's right, and so is Voight, but she'd never truly admit it. No matter how _right_ Voight is, no matter how _needed_ this grandiose effort is, it courses through her like boiling water. "Jay, I- I just..." Usually, it's Jay who sits in the silence while Hailey talks him off the edge, but tonight, she's the one who can't seem to form the words. But when the grip of his hand tightens, it's like it spurs a much-needed shaky deep breath out of her, and the lump in her throat fades.

"What if he's right? What if I can't do it anymore?" Jay swallows hard at her words, pondering what he'd do if the scripts were flipped. His hand lifts from her as he stands, sauntering over to the bench she's on, his leg brushing hers as he sits beside her. She turns so they're side by side, a predicament they'd been in dozens of times. The thing that works felt a little more tense tonight, though.

Along with his close presence, she's met with that gentle voice that graced her kitchen late at night when she shared her heavy burden of losing Devin Williams. He talked her out of that pit, and he's talking her out of this one. "Hails, you gotta hear me real clear on this- let this, this situation, shape you. But don't for a second think you aren't capable of your job anymore. Don't let _this_ rob you of yourself. You sit with it, you learn from it, you get back up and go to work the next day." She nods, his words lifting the fog from her. "Just..." he drifts.

She lifts her tired eyebrows a moment after he trails off. "Just, what?" She urges him. The corner of his mouth quirks in a soft smile. "Just, for the love of god don't let the FBI hook you in." And now he's done it, he's actually managed that smile from her that does him in, _every_ damn time.

They both stand, turning toward one another, and the air between them is almost awkward. A sigh escapes Hailey, facing her partner for the last time for a few weeks. It isn't the end of the world, but something in her feels like it is- or maybe it's the beginning of something- that she's not sure of. But the lines she's picturing in her head get blurrier when Jay's arms wrap around her. She tenses for a split second, then settles into his comforting grip. She forgets how short she is sometimes, until now, when his chin balances on her head.

"You know I don't like nice suits," she breathes quietly against him. His laugh vibrates against her head on his chest, and she _might_ be sure that she doesn't want to leave. And when they part, she's never been more sure that she doesn't want to leave. His green eyes in the light of the locker room settled her mind before, but now they stir up something new. She leans down to grab her duffle bag and fixes the strap back on her shoulder, shrugging at her partner as they prepare to part ways. "At least let me walk you out," Jay blurts, a last attempt to steal a few moments before miles and states separate them, which warrants an eye roll from Hailey.

She'd never refuse, of course, so they walk out of the locker room together, and exit the 21st district through the lobby. Jay steps aside to let Hailey discuss her trip with Trudy at the desk. They exchange a few sentences he can't hear, Trudy slipping her a copy of her record, her plane tickets, her hotel information, and a host of files about the FBI's task force. Hailey gives the desk Sergeant a warm wave before picking up the papers, a rare smile meeting her parting gesture.

She turns and walks down the front steps with Jay, Trudy shaking her head at the two leaving. She probably knows more than even they do.

Around the corner in the parking lot, Jay lifts Hailey's bag into the backseat of her car while she rests the stack of papers on the floorboard of the passenger seat. She walks around to the driver's seat, and Jay opens the door for her.

"You're only being a gentleman 'cause I'm leaving. Guarantee you'll drop that when I get back" She confidently assumes, planting herself in her car. 

"Oh yeah, count on it." He jokes, closing her door. She rolls the window down so he can lean on it. And she knows him well, because he does just that. He sighs, a little close into her space, but she doesn't care, she just reclines against the seat and watches his silhouette in the dark parking lot resting on her open window. Her face tilts to level with his resting on his arms. "See you later, Jay." 

She doesn't want to be blunt, but she's afraid if she isn't, she'll never leave, and both Voight and Platt would join in killing her. He just stares at her, his cocky smile barely noticeable in the night. After a silent minute, he stands upright outside her car, pocketing his hands at his sides. "See you later, Hailey Anne Upton." And yeah, hearing him say her full name sends a wave of heat through her. "Weirdo," she returns, shaking her head. He laughs, a deep and easy laugh, as she rolls up her window. Last waves send them both on their way, and as she exits her workplace- her home-, her mind whirls in the quiet of her car.

This time, with a little less curses and a little more clarity.


End file.
